Inking the way

There it was, going further, moving on, constant, unstoppable. A line set limit between sky and land. Under it, the sea was brave. I was sitting on the sand, my brother and his brand new Brazilian friend were running on the endless beach kicking a football that seemed as if tied to their feet. Brazil at its best was there for me and I couldn’t think of time I had felt so peaceful.

And then I began to think back about all the events that had led me and my family to that little island to the South East of Brazil: Ilha do Mel. I remembered all my doubts, how hard and exciting it had been. Arriving late at the airport to find that we had missed the plane. Long waits. The fear that the plane might fall. The bus that broke down in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere. Arriving at the harbor too late to take the small boat to the island. Wondering whether we might have to spend the night there, on a bench. And then, the familiar faces of the people from the "posada" waiting there for us. And finally, paradise on earth.

I remembered all the nights I got lost in the sand tracks (or “thrillas”) and then managed to find my way back. The moon that got stuck between my eyes every night and showed me the way. The salt, the wind, the dust. The misunderstandings and the sign language. All the people I had met even if only for a second. Their faces, their smiles, their warmth. The silence, the peace, and a bike as the only means of transportation.

I remembered the fried shrimps, and that afternoon when we decided to go see the dolphins in a nearby island, and the boat... that small damn boat. And the storm on our way back from that trip, that instant when I thought that my life was going to be over. And how much I prayed… And how the people on the boat kept saying that everything was going to be OK, and it was.

I remembered that night, the samba and my lack of coordination. How little it mattered then.

I remembered the beautiful landscapes I had only seen in pictures and now, there they were. My new friends and that bonfire. The presents, the laughters, and the warm sea breeze. My tears rolling down my eyes when it was time to say goodbye.

It was late, I had to leave. But I just couldn't. That beautiful dawn wouldn't let me, that dawn I had dreamt of my whole life. I knew I was not the same person and I wondered if anything would ever feel this good again... but wouldn't it be great to die a little bit everyday under a horizon like that one?